I love words and dig poetry slams. I've been writing poetry since I was about 5 years old and my mother tells everyone I was born with a pen in my hand. I am a project manager by profession and reside in Utah with my handsome husband and our two outstanding children. You can read more of my work and follow my poetry adventures here: http://trishhopkinson.com/.

Spicy

You’re my salt shaker baby.You add flavor and zing to my lifewhen I’ve had a bitter grapefruit dayor a bland tomato sandwich week.A little shake as you walk byor when you greet me on the streetmakes my cookie dough rise.There’s no MSG for me--like the salt seasons the seayou dissolve into my soul.You’re my pepper grinder lover.You give my stew a little kickwhen the world is plain and lackingor the celery in my bloody maryjust ain’t cuttin’ it Sunday morning.A little twist to the leftand then back to the rightmakes it just spicy enoughto drive away my boredomand quench my yearning.You’re my sugar shot darling.You sweeten up my morning lattewith pleasantness on my tongue,change the perspective of my dayand lead me out into the sun.A pump or two into my cup,maybe caramel or sweet vanilla,drowns out the noise, slows the pacegives me the energy and vigorto enjoy myself.Though life, I know, is worth livingit’s the taste of your essenceyour pizzazz and your zestthat makes this mundane existencea pleasure to partake in--tantalizing and delicious.

Afternoon Love-making

A window washer slides from floor to floor.The squeegee squeaks away streakserasing the haze and the spots.His line of sight stops at the glass,unaware of what’s contained behindsome blinds enclosed others raised,rooms dark and unmoving or daylight lit―the shadows move peripherally like specters.We don’t notice him until he stops and looks in.We laugh and don’t bother pulling up the covers.--originally published by SLCC Community Writing Center in Pieced Into Treetops (a chapbook by Trish Hopkinson). 2013.

You Fit

You comfort me when there’s no place to go,slip over my head when I’m too sleepy for thought,and wipe the wet of a tough day from my facewith the softness of your sleeve.You smell of fresh laundry and adorn my bodylike a little black dress, but you fit around memore carefully and in all the right places―you’re just like my favorite pajamas.--originally published by SLCC Community Writing Center in Pieced Into Treetops (a chapbook by Trish Hopkinson). 2013.

Reformation

The curve of your ear drops soft to the lobe,connects to the line of your neckand traces your throat to the hollow of collar bone.The jut of your jaw, whiskered and smooth,to the supple lips and gentle lift to your sleeping lidscatch my breath as if it were my thoughtsand an ache of longing and gracelightens the weight of my head and reforms my heart.

--originally published by SLCC Community Writing Center in Pieced Into Treetops (a chapbook by Trish Hopkinson). 2013.